Forgotten Crossroads
by freifraufischer
Summary: Thirty years before the end of the world two people met for the first time, and passed each other again like ships in the night. A young Laura Roslin, school teacher and union agitator, Saul Tigh, bitter veteran and reactionary Caprica city policemen. This story was written before the season 3 final.


Saul Tigh knew it was going to be a bad day the moment he woke up - not that there were that many good days. Five years after the war**,** grim shadows and brief glints of chrome plated death still inhabited his dreams. It always took him a few minutes in the morning simply to remember the war was over. Even then it was mainly the throbbing pain of a hangover that convinced him that this world was real, and that the frightening nightmarescape was not.

In the time, since he had left the service Saul had held six jobs, none for more than a year, from merchant ships to his latest as a Caprica City police officer. Moreover, even Tigh knew that wasn't going to last long. It seemed to him that there were basically two kinds of cops, the ones who were too young to have served, and the ones that got out of it by becoming police officers. Not that there weren't veterans around, but their wars had not been Saul Tigh's war.

Rear area commandos, who despite having not seen half the combat Tigh had seen, came home with twice as many medals and an inflated sense of entitlement. They all seemed to have an easy time adjusting to peace. Peace had no meaning to Tigh.

And this certainly did not look like peace to him.

The Caprica Teachers Union had been on strike for two months now. At first, the protests had been quiet and orderly, a bunch of naive little twats who were whining about low pay outside government buildings. When he looked at his service pension, he didn't have a lot of sympathy for them. The peaceful protests hadn't lasted long when the government refused to give into their demands, and over the last few weeks the violence had gotten progressively worse.

The teachers always tried to portray themselves as caring about the children, but to Tigh's mind, they were whining hypocrites. If they really cared about the children, they would be in their classrooms and not throwing stones and burning cars.

"Peaceful my ass," he grumbled as an egg splattered across his riot shield. "I've had just about enough of this." Tigh pulled a tear gas grenade from his pouch and loaded it into his weapon. With careful aim, he fired. The tear gas canister exploded from his rifle with a satisfying thud, arching through the air, and landing near the feet of a particularly loud group of protesters. Tigh smiled as they scattered away from the smoking bomb covering their faces.

"That's right you frakkers, that will make you cry like the whining babies you are!"

Slowly, the smile slipped away when he saw one figure running towards the canister and not away. A woman with fiery red hair scooped up the smoking grenade like it was a fallen pyramid ball and threw it back into the police lines… sending many officers running from their own weapon.

Angered by the attack and freed from the billowing cloud of tear gas the protesters turned into a mob and the teachers charged the police with pipes and rocks.

"Oh frak," Tigh whispered and braced himself for the assault.

In the melee that followed, Tigh used his baton indiscriminately, crashing it into the heads and knees of protesters until he saw the red head who had returned his grenade. Tigh grabbed her by the arm and wrenched it behind her back until she let out a yelp and he slipped a pair of handcuffs on her wrists.

Using the teacher as a shield, he pushed through the crowd toward a waiting police car. Once she was secured, he got into the drivers side just in time for a brick to slam into the window as he closed the door.

As his tunnel vision cleared, he noticed, for the first time that there weren't another officers in sight, and the cruiser was surrounded by angry rioters.

Over the radio, he could hear the sound of police commanders trying to reorganize the officers, but Saul had heard enough panicked units in combat to know that wasn't very likely anytime soon.

"Frak me."

"No thank you, officer, you aren't my type."

He turned around to see his prisoner sitting back calmly, her glasses not even askew. Beyond her, out the back window, he could see another cruiser burning.

"Your moronic friends are going to get us both killed."

"Actually, they might get you killed, but I think they're smart enough not to get me killed."

Tigh took the mike from his loud speaker and shoved it back towards her. "Tell them to back away from the car."

"Don't look at me, officer, I didn't start this. In fact, if I'm not mistaken, I believe you did."

Tigh wished he could reach back and strangle her for the smug look on her face.

"You are the cop, I'm just a teacher. I wouldn't know anything about dealing with a riot." She smiled.

Disgusted, he picked up the control himself and went to speak, only to stop in mid-motion as he saw the cruiser's loudspeaker ripped from its mounting and land on the ground with a crash that could be heard even above the riot. The car began to rock as the rioters pushed on the sides, and all the while, the red-head sat in the back with the most annoying calm about her.

Just when he thought the mob would rip apart the cruiser bit-by-bit in order to get at her… or him really… there was a break in the crowd and Tigh could see more police in riot gear pushing through. With enough room, he pushed down on the accelerator and nearly ran over a few people getting out of the situation.

Looking up at the ear view mirror, he saw a slight expression of relief on the woman's face. "Fooled me…"

"I was trying."

"Why'd you pick up that canister anyway?"

"It takes thirty seconds for the gas to start affecting the human body, I knew if I got to it before then I could toss it back."

"What kind of things are they teaching in teachers colleges these days?" He just shook his head as he drove the battered police car into the holding area where there were dozens of teachers held in the backs of trucks with their hands zip-tied together. He handed his charge off to another officer who was filing the arrest papers.

"Name?" The officer asked.

Tigh looked at her, and she provided it to the officer. "Laura Roslin."


End file.
